


July Third

by redneterp



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mama Bittle sees everything, Pie, and is awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6543097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redneterp/pseuds/redneterp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a certain Canadian hockey robot visits a Georgia boy, pies are baked (naturally!), declarations are made, and MamaBittle is Awesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	July Third

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been rattling about in my brain for weeks, but now that Year 3 episodes are coming this week, I felt the need to put the story into actual text and post it now before it becomes canon-divergent (even though it has been many, many years since I have written a complete bit of fiction, these hockey boys compelled me!)

The kitchen echoed with the tapping of the knife on the cutting board as Bitty finished chopping the last of the applies, adding the thin slices to the heaping piles in the bowl. The dough for the crust was chilling in the fridge, ready to be rolled. He had persuaded the camp director to give him the afternoon off, and time was tight, but he couldn’t imagine not having Jack’s favorite pie ready for his arrival. He’d set his alarm an extra half-hour early to get the crust ready and chilling before he had to leave for a full morning of camp activities, but he was awake long before it went off, after a nearly sleepless night. As his iPhone played the first strains of _Halo_ (why yes, he had chosen a special ringtone for this day), he bounced out of bed, filled with nervous anticipation. _This is it! Jack arrives today!_ Bitty had been counting down the days until his maybe-boyfriend’s arrival since the moment the plans were confirmed. Six weeks had passed since That Day at the Haus, days filled with texts and Skype calls, but in all those conversations one topic that he wasn’t brave enough to broach was the question of defining their relationship, though he was pretty sure that this was something real.

The morning felt like it was dragging on, and he was far less invested in arts and craft sessions than usual, instead counting down the seconds until he could dash home to get ready. Jack’s text arrived just as he was sneaking out from the dining lodge ( **Cleared customs and security. At the gate. See you soon!** ). Bitty couldn’t resist a chirp in reply as he climbed into Coach’s truck. Soon he was back in his familiar kitchen, chopping and rolling, preparing a pair of maple-glazed apple pies to pop in the oven along with the pecan pie that was already browning nicely. He was thankful for the cooler break in the weather as he fired up the oven, mid-day baking in the 100-degree weather of the week prior might have been too much even for him (oh, who was he kidding, he would have done it anyway, you can’t NOT bake for a visiting guest!). Pies in the oven (with Mama on hand and ready to pull them out to cool when the buzzers rang) and three outfit changes later he was back in the truck and on the interstate heading for the Atlanta airport. 

 

He arrived with plenty of time to spare, and paced the arrivals area, anxiously watching as the status of the flight from Montreal changed from On Time to Landed to At Gate. Moments later a new group of passengers emerged from the secure area and then there he was, Jack. Here. In Georgia. And looking more gorgeous than ever, button-down shirt and all. They paused in front of each other for a second before reaching for each other in a tight hug. During the last six weeks Bitty sometimes wondered if he’d built up That Day in his memory, but being there in Jack’s arms felt even better than he remembered. He really wanted to kiss him again, but they were in the middle of the bustling crowd in the arrivals area and that would need to wait. Reluctantly he pulled back, and tried to compose himself. 

“Do you have any checked bags?” Bitty asked.

“Yeah, I had some things packed that couldn’t go as carry-on.”

“Why Mr. Zimmerman, did you bring me gifts?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, eh?”

“I invite you to my home and you chirp me?”

And with that the tension settled, as they chatted and chirped easily while waiting for the baggage carousel to start spinning. When Jack’s bag emerged they had a brief tussle over who would carry it. “I think I can carry my own bag, I have been keeping up with off-season conditioning!”

“You may be a professional athlete now, but you’re in the South, and what kind of host would I be if I didn’t help you with your bags?” Bitty insisted while shouldering the duffle bag. “What have you got in here, lead bricks?”

“I’m still not telling you until we get to your home.”

“Oh, is it a guessing game? Well then ….”

 

Bitty lead the way to the parking garage, stashed the duffle on the backseat of the pickup, and hopped behind the wheel. And then, finally, they were alone together. He turned to look at Jack, and was taken once again by the gorgeous blue of his eyes. “You’re really here. ”

“Hi…” Jack replied, staring back before glancing quickly around. Bitty might just have picked this spot, in the far corner of the garage behind a pillar, for it’s privacy, and it seemed that Jack agreed, as he leaned in towards Bitty. And with that, Bitty’s reserve was broken, and he launched himself at Jack, one hand braced against his chest as the other latched onto That Jawline to bring Jack’s lips to his. Jack’s hands settled on Bitty’s waist, tugging him closer to deepen the kiss. And there they stayed for several glorious minutes, until Jack pulled back slightly, trailing feather-light kisses across Bitty’s cheek, and then his eyelids. At some point his right hand had migrated upwards, and his thumb stroked Bitty’s cheek, bringing back memories of That Day. Bitty’s eyes drifted open, and he managed to stammer out “wow…”

Jack looked equally besotted as he continued to stroke Bitty’s cheek. “It’s really good to see you again…”

“You’ve seen me nearly every day on Skype” Bitty teased.

“Yeah, but I can’t kiss my boyfriend over Skype, now can I?”

“Boyfriend? I??” He might have been embarrassed by the squeak in his voice if his thoughts hadn’t ground to a halt at that word.

Jack’s eyebrows shifted into his worried look (at some point, Bitty realized, he had become an expert on the many subtle facial expressions of a certain Canadian Hockey Robot), as he pulled back stammering “Oh … well .. I mean … do you not want …”

Bitty grabbed for Jack’s hands, gently tugging him back across the bench seat. “Oh goodness no, I do want. I mean, I couldn’t even dream of it for the longest time, and then after That Day I hoped, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted but - I want.” He watched the anxious expression on Jack’s face shift to one of wonder during that speech.

“I want it too. So, Bittle - Eric - I would like to be your boyfriend, if you’ll have me.”

“Mr Zimmerman, I would be honoured.”

And then Jack’s face shifted again, into his serious look. “Maybe it’s not fair of me to ask you, this will be my rookie year in the NHL, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to be out publicly, to be the first, but it’s not that I’m ashamed of you, I just…” His voice trailed off as he turned to stare out the windshield at the cement wall. 

“Oh honey, I understand. I’m not even out to anyone here at home, not even my folks. We’ll figure it out, together?”

Jack’s twisted his hands to grip Bitty’s. “Together.” That promise in that one word hung in the air as he tugged Bitty to his chest, and enveloped him in his arms. Bitty relished the feeling of cuddling in his boyfriend (Boyfriend!)’s arms, head tucked under Jack’s. 

He eventually pulled himself away, saying “We really should hit the road, or we’ll just stuck in rush hour traffic on the interstate,” as he buckled himself into the driver’s seat. Jack followed suit, as Bitty wove the pickup out of the parkade and through the maze of access and connecting roads until they were heading east on the I-20. As they drove Bitty updated Jack on the latest antics of his campers, and the gossip from his weekends at the bakery. After finding and settling into an apartment in Providence Jack had spent the past couple weeks in Montreal, and described his visit to the Old City with Maman, and the Canada Day events and fireworks show.

“Madison may be a lot smaller than Montreal, but we do love our fireworks. Our fireworks for the Fourth will put yours to shame!”

“Is that so…”

 

And so they continued, as the city and suburbs gave way to trees and fields, until turning off to drive through Madison, as Bitty pointed out the historic antebellum homes and his favorite bakeries and shops. Soon they wound down residential streets and pulled into the driveway of a brick ranch home.

“Well, here we are, this is home.” He turned off the ignition and reached to squeeze Jack’s hand. “Mama’s likely watching from the kitchen window.”

And sure enough, as they slid out of the pickup she emerged from the front door to welcome Jack with a warm hug. “Oh, it’s so lovely to have you come and visit us. C’mon in and have some sweet tea! Y’all made good time on the drive. How was your flight?” She chatted as she gave a quick tour of her home, pointing out the air mattress set up in Bitty’s room, and then led them into the kitchen. “Dicky, did you take a picture of Jack yet? Take one of us, here in our kitchen.”

“Mother!”

“Dicky?” Jack mouthed, eyebrow raised.

“Don’t you dare!” Bitty glared, as he pulled out his phone, took a shot, and decided it was safe to tweet a photo of Jack and Mama Bittle.

“Now why don’t you boys take a seat and have some tea.” She offered, pulling a pitcher from the fridge. “And Coach will be a bit late getting back, he’s helping the firefighter crew set up the field for the fireworks show. So we can sample a bit of one of the pies that Dicky made without spoiling our dinner.”

As she set out glasses and plates, Jack turned to dig in his duffle, pulling out gifts. He passed a small tissue-wrapped package to Suzanne, which she unwrapped to reveal a delicate scarf. 

“Oh Jack, it’s lovely!”

He ducked his head shyly, “Maman helped me pick it, she’s the Zimmerman with fashion sense. I went shopping with her in the Old City last week.”

“Well thank you to you both!” And she stood to give Jack a hug.

Next Jack pulled out a larger plastic bag that he slid across the table to Bitty, who untied it to find two jugs within. “Maple syrup?!”

“Uh, yeah, real Quebec maple syrup, for your baking.” He quirked an eyebrow, somewhere between nervous and chirping.

“This is amazing, thank you! And speaking of maple, I made that maple-glazed apple pie you like, but maybe you won’t want it if it isn’t made with the real Quebec stuff” he chirped.

“I’ll take my chances.”

And so they dug into the apple pie, sitting around the kitchen table chatting for an hour or more. Bitty could tell he was nearly vibrating with joy, sitting with his boyfriend in his family home (even if his family didn’t know Jack was his boyfriend). It was better than his younger self could ever have imagined.

 

As Jack excused himself to unpack his bag and settle in, Suzanne pulled Bitty into a tight hug. “Oh honey, it does my heart good to see you so happy. I may miss you while you’re at school way up north, but it has been the best thing for you.” She patted his cheek, “I can see your heart in your eyes today. I’m so happy for you, baby.” She pulled him into another hug.

Bitty was stunned into silence. Was she saying what it sounded like she was saying? That she Knew? And was happy for him?? He wasn’t sure he was brave enough to ask, but before could decide, he heard the sounds of a car pulling into the drive and then rattling about the grill out back. He wasn’t nearly ready to have that conversation with Coach, but Mama’s apparent blessing was more than he could have wished for. 

 

Later, after dinner (complete with stilted questions to Jack from Coach), a walk around the neighborhood with Jack, an evening snack of pecan pie, and some truly amazing good-night kisses (Bitty couldn’t imagine doing anything more with Coach just on the other side of his bedroom wall), Bitty settled back on the air mattress (after many appeals to the rules of Southern hospitality, and some well-timed kisses, he had persuaded Jack to take the real bed) and replayed the day in his mind. It had truly been one of the best days of his life, he thought, as he listened to Jack’s steady breaths from the bed above him. 

“G’night Jack,” he whispered.

“Goodnight Eric” his boyfriend (!) whispered back.

Definitely the best day ever.


End file.
